


Fatal Attraction

by Rheaird_of_Life



Category: Killing Eve (TV 2018)
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-16
Updated: 2019-02-16
Packaged: 2019-10-29 08:31:29
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,110
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17804618
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rheaird_of_Life/pseuds/Rheaird_of_Life
Summary: Some weird crack based off of the S2 teaser trailer.





	Fatal Attraction

**Author's Note:**

> Okay so I couldn't sleep last night so this happened.

It's Valentine's Day and Eve is feeling distinctly unloved.

Niko is barely talking to her, and when he does, it's with thinly veiled contempt. Their relationship has deteriorated to the point where they rarely even occupy the same space anymore. They haven't even had angry sex in months. And Eve knows they are on the verge of divorce. She's known it for a long time, but has been unwilling to put the final nail in the coffin.

She's never been a romantic. She's never had the time.

That isn't to say however that she is averse to the concept of being wooed.

So when she receives an unmarked parcel on her doorstep later that day, she can't help but to smile. The beautiful white roses inside are meticulously arranged in her name. Despite the lack of card, there's no question in Eve's mind who these are from.

Her head whips up as she surveys her surroundings, hoping to catch even a glimpse of the elusive assassin. Sadly, it's not to be.

As a consolation prize, she plucks one of the flowers out of the V and inhales deeply, eyes fluttering closed in appreciation. Perhaps it's her mind playing tricks on her, but she swears they smell like the perfume. She still has the bottle, and occasionally when she's feeling particularly low (like in recent days) she takes it out of the hidden compartment in the bathroom and reacquaints herself with the one that got away.

It isn't nearly enough to quell the constant yearning and loneliness within, but it helps. 

With a sigh, Eve collects the box and brings it inside. Her first instinct is to hide it like she's hid Oksana's other gifts in the past. 

But she's done tip toeing around Niko.

She's done with this charade.

In a fit of boldness she places it on the coffee table in plain view.

She feels oddly relieved now that she's sealed her fate. 

*

A week later as she's leaving the latest crime scene, a firm hand closes around her mouth and nose. She goes rigid with fear and automatically inhales in surprise. That's when she smells the sickly sweet aroma coming off of the rag. She successfully avoids the nearly overwhelming pull of unconsciousness for a few seconds, and then she knows no more.

*

When she comes to, she's on a bed.

She startles when she realizes that her hands are tied above her head, tightly secured to the headboard, with little to no wiggle room. Already her fingertips are going a bit numb.

Bleary eyed and skull throbbing, she tries to get her bearings further. It's a struggle at first, but eventually she comprehends that she's in a hotel room, possibly the _same_ hotel that the murder was committed in.

There are rose petals scattered all around. White rose petals.

Her feet are bare, her socks and shoes nowhere to be found.

The lights are dimmed but she can see that the TV is silently playing  _ Love, Actually _ . Despite her less than ideal predicament, Eve can't help but to scowl at the choice of film. She knew that Oksana loved movies, but she thought she had better taste than  _ that _ . Then again, maybe she identified with the creepy, stalker guy who was in love with his best friends wife?

She had felt like someone was watching her earlier, and she had been about to knock when she got called away and back to the crime scene. Now she knows for sure that she hadn't been mistaken. Without doubt she was in room 201 right now. Which meant that there was likely a police officer standing guard just down the hallway.

“Oksa-” she coughs violently. Her tongue feels like cotton in her mouth. She licks her lips and tries to get the saliva flowing again following her drugging. “Oksana?” she tries again when her throat isn't such a desolate wasteland.

There's no response.

Eve wonders why she's still playing hard to get. Why go to all this trouble to bring her here, at considerable risk of getting caught, and then continue to remain in the shadows? Was Oksana really _that_ gun shy about their first face to face meeting since Paris?

“It's okay,” she reassures. “You can come out now. There's no need for all of this.” She pulls lightly against her restraints to no effect. “I'm not going to hurt you.” She swallows thickly, eyes watering slightly. “I'll never hurt you again. Please, just come out now.”

The door to the darkened bathroom slowly opens. Her heart rate picks up as the figure emerges. She's wearing what appears to be a Halloween costume of some sort. The body of the outfit is normal enough, something a bar wench would wear, albeit lacier and pinker. Kind of fairy like. The head however is stranger, and gives Eve pause. And a certain amount of disquiet.

The pig's head with the oversized cartoonish eyes swivels towards her and the body follows. She stands at the edge of the bed and just stares while the movie continues to flash behind her. The inanimate eyes seem to move, seem to bore into her own, and her heart is pierced with dread.

“Oksana?” she mutters one more time.

The head moves slowly side to side and Eve begins to panic. If this person _wasn't_ Oksana...then that meant-

“Stop messing around,” she demands fearfully, not wanting it to be true. “Take off the mask. Let me see you!”

The woman with the pig's mask shakes her head again in that unnervingly slow way.

Eve yanks at the restraints this time, wincing as they cut into her wrists. “If you don't let me go right this second, I'll scream.”

A finger is raised to the pig's lips, and another slashes across the bare neck. It's a clear plea to be silent, or else.

Eve bites her own lip and does her best to remain calm and rational. Anything to bide time until she can formulate a plan of escape.

“What do you want from me?” she asks, her voice trembling despite her best efforts.

The woman makes a kissy sound from behind the unsettling mask.

Then suddenly Eve clues into her surroundings again, to the rose petals, to the flowers on her doorstep. She had been so sure they were from Oksana. But apparently she had been completely wrong. If the circumstances were less dire, she might have had the capacity to feel flattered. After all, what were the chances that _two_ female assassins would be infatuated with her at the same time?

“You have _got_ to be kidding me,” she murmurs wearily to herself, slumping against the headboard in temporary defeat.

She supposes she should be far more alarmed than she is. She is after all a captive, with no real idea what the other woman has planned for her. There's no one waiting at home for her return. No one to call Carolyn and let her know that Eve never made it back. She's well and truly alone with another murderous psychopath...in bed.

The pig lady climbs onto the end of the bed and simply hovers there upright for a bit on her knees, as if she is attempting to savour the moment. Eve snaps back to her grim reality with a vengeance when the assassin gets on all fours and starts snuffling at the bed sheets, like she's trying to suss out some truffles.

“Okay, now wait just a minute!” she says urgently, shrinking from her touch. “Let's talk about this! Let's...get to know one another better first!” she gushes out haphazardly, subtly tugging on her restraints some more. “How about I tell you some things about myself? You'd like that, wouldn't you?”

The assassin ignores her and makes a play for her foot, still snuffling.

“Oh come  _ on _ now,” she says in desperation, wincing as the bonds dig in painfully, “I'm sure you do! You went to all this trouble to get me here, so you must be interested in more than just my feet!”

The assassin oinks in approval as she snatches said foot. Then she straightens up and wiggles each toe in turn, like they're playing ' _this little piggy_.'

As if that wasn't bad enough, she next brings Eve's flailing foot to her fake pig's snout and rubs it all over the pink rubber while making the kissy sound again.

Suffice it to say, Eve's skin is crawling. She tries to kick her with her other foot, but the assassin anticipates this action and catches Eve's ankle before her foot can make contact with her skull.

With no other options left to Eve, she opens her mouth to scream.

In the same instant, an arrowhead springs forth from the assassins chest, spraying Eve lightly in warm blood, some of which gets in her mouth.

The full bodied scream morphs into a yelp of surprise instead, and she jerks back as best she can as the pig lady pitches forward with a soft thump. A shower of rose petals cascades from the point of impact. As they flutter down, Eve's gaze lands on her unorthodox saviour.

Oksana is standing there with a tense and rigid posture and a disgruntled look on her face. The compact crossbow is still aimed at her abductor and ready for further use.

Eve knows it's unnecessary though. The assassin was shot right through the heart. So unless it was situated somewhere _other_ than the left side of her chest, she wasn't getting back up again.

“Oksana,” she smiles, relief oozing into every corner of her body and mind.

Oksana doesn't acknowledge her though, her metaphorical hackles are still raised.

“I'm okay. It's over. You can put that down now.”

She smiles further when Oksana blinks out of predator mode and makes eye contact for the first time in many months. However, Oksana's gaze only softens briefly before the darkness returns.

Oksana drops the crossbow to the carpeted floor and swiftly makes her way to Eve's side, pulling out a knife along the way. For a split irrational heartbeat Eve fears for her life and the retribution she has anxiously anticipated following the Paris incident, as if Oksana only saved her so she could have the enjoyment of dispatching her herself. But then the restraints are cut loose and a tingling sensation ensues as blood returns to her fingertips.

As Eve rolls her aching shoulders and gingerly rubs at her tortured wrists, Oksana takes the knife and plunges it into the back of the other assassin, over and over again in a belatedly brutal way.

“Was that _really_ necessary?” she says, quirking a brow. Despite the gruesome display before her, she can't help but to be amused. She's giddy at the prospect of simply being in the same room as Oksana.

“Her leg twitched,” replies Oksana with a shrug and an answering smirk.

“How did you know I was here? Have you been stalking me _too_?” she teases.

“Not you,” says Oksana seriously. She glowers down at the corpse. “ _This_ bitch.”

Eve thinks Oksana was probably watching both of them, but if she doesn't want to admit it, Eve won't force her to confess.

“Well, I'm glad you were keeping an eye on her. Otherwise I would've been toast.” She holds out her hand. “Thank you.”

Oksana hesitates a moment before taking it. Eve squeezes, doing her best to impart her genuine sincerity and thankfulness for her rescue. Apparently it's message received. Without warning, Oksana tugs Eve off the bed and into her arms. They're not hugging exactly, more of a prelude to a slow dance, complete with Oksana's hand on the small of her back, anchoring her, securing her, making her feel safe and warm. It's the closest they've been since Paris, since _ever_ , and Eve is intensely thrilled by the intimate proximity. There's so many things she wants to say to her, but she can't seem to bring herself to say a single one, not when Oksana is looking at her like that, like Eve is her entire world. 

For the first time in a long time, Eve feels unconditionally loved.

They remain that way for several beats before Oksana tilts her head towards the dead body and says, “We should probably get out of here. She is starting to stink of pig shit.”

“Anywhere particular in mind?” she asks, a little breathless, face a little flushed.

Oksana grins, all of her mischievous energy infusing her features. “Do you like pork chops, Eve?”

 

**Author's Note:**

> This was supposed to be complete crack but somehow ended up more sinister than I was expecting. Haha.
> 
> Cupid's arrow is a real bitch looool


End file.
